


Shotgun Intermezzo

by Kira_K, OKami_hu



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Blow Jobs, Gunkink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira_K/pseuds/Kira_K, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rufus needs a little distraction. Rude comes in just the right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shotgun Intermezzo

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ community 50kinkyways. We didn't finish, but at least managed to churn out a few acceptable stories.
> 
> Anybody who can help correct the grammar, comma, spelling and style mistakes will be loved. <3

Rufus Shinra was bored and tired and just feeling the edges of a headache from staring too long at the monitor. Since he had become the President of the ShinRa Inc., everyone had thought he had all the answers. And the money. He wasn't against spending it but there were limits and the last begging report from Palmer did push them over. Rufus needed to do something, something which wasn't _work_ but didn't jeopardize him. Pulling out the shotgun from under his desk he caressed the barrels lovingly. Maybe, he needed some exercise and that was all to relieve the stress. 

The buzz of the speaker startled him a little and the blond youth felt the waves of annoyance as he pushed the button. "Yes, what is it?"

"Sir, a Turk is here," the secretary announced. "He brought some report and would like to speak a few words to you if you're not too busy."

"Send him in," Rufus growled after a few moments. It must have been important but it didn't mean he needed to like the idea of more work. Severing the line he leant back in his armchair but didn't put away the firearm. He didn't need to hide it from his personal bodyguards and assassins; they had seen worse. With an interesting loop his thoughts turned from the shotgun to the other kind of amusements for which his trusted men were the best candidates. Rufus caressed the weapon once again with a small smirk. 

The thick wooden door opened and a tall, dark figure stepped in: the Soleil, Rude. A man of few words but great strength, he was one of the best agents. With firm steps, he walked to the wide desk and bowed his head. "Sir. I brought you the report of the last case. It was solved without a problem, this is the final summary. Tseng asked me to assure you that this rebel group won't be a problem anymore. Moreover, he has some interesting news and would like to talk to you in private. He was asking if you could name a place and time for that."

Rufus gave a glance to the paper then stood up, his long fingers still caressing the cool metal. "I assume, it's not that important, or Tseng would have come personally. So tell him, tomorrow at eleven-hundred, I'll pay him a visit in his office," he said then smiled at the Turk. "Close the door then come back here, Rude."

The Turk merely nodded and did what was told him. After turning the key in the lock, he stepped back to the desk and waited, silently like always.

Rufus licked his lips and placed the shotgun flat against Rude's chest. It was loaded but he had no intention of killing. "Why don't you get out of this suit?"

"Sir?" the agent questioned calmly but his hands instantly went to the zipper of the jacket. Whatever the President had in mind, the Turks obeyed him. Their lives were Rufus' and they never questioned his orders or sudden ideas - well, not until they didn't endanger the president himself. 

"We'll play a game," Rufus answered and undid the buttons of Rude's shirt with his free hand. The shotgun's barrel moved a bit then rested against the chocolate colored skin. "The sunglasses. Get them off for me," Rufus said after a moment of staring at the Turk's face. He liked the direct eye-contact because there was so much he could read out of the others' gaze.

Rude's shoulders tensed at the command and he didn't move immediately. But after a moment of hesitation, he removed the shades hiding his dark eyes. However, he didn't look directly at the president, just lowered his head a bit. "A game, sir?" he questioned quietly while glancing at the weapon. Not that he was afraid of it. Pain and death walked with the Turks all the time, picking their victims without partiality from both the targets and the agents.

"Yes, a game," Rufus nodded slightly. It was all the reassurance he was willing to give. He lifted the shotgun a bit, letting it rest against the Turk's chin and its edge to touch Rude's lips. His free hand touched the nipples, caressing the muscled chest absentmindedly, even as Rufus stared at the other man's face. He refused to acknowledge the height, weight and strength difference between them; Rufus firmly believed that he was the most dangerous man on the Planet since his father's death. 

The touches - both the fingers' and the metal's - were undeniably arousing. The Turks were all Shinra's whores and they had no problem with that. A slow, small sigh escaped Rude's lips and he briefly closed his eyes as the shotgun's tip traced his mouth. Serving Rufus with body and soul wasn't a bad option as the young president had outstanding skills in the bed as well. He had occasional fits of foul temper though and the threat, the excitement of facing his gun's business end just enhanced the strange, dangerous appeal of the situation.

Rufus lifted and then pushed the weapon against Rude's mouth entirely. The double barrels pressed against the Turk's lips. "Kiss it," Rufus said and moved his hand. Rude's skin chilled a bit from where the metal touched him. The President's fingers didn't rest until they rested at the other man's Adam’s apple, tracing the dark throat and brushing against the fine stubble there. 

The contrast between the different touches was sharp and Rude felt himself harden further beneath the fabric of his pants. His lips parted and moved against the barrel, picking up a faint taste of oil Rufus used to keep his weapon in an excellent condition. The tall agent mused a little - this was _kinky_. Yepp, that was the right word and for his own slight surprise, he enjoyed the situation. Much. Without really thinking about it, his tongue flicked against the dark metal.

Rufus stared then stepped closer wanting a better look. Making a soft, annoyed noise he pushed at Rude's shoulder to get him to kneel, so he could touch him better. "Kneel but don't stop," he said and pressed the shotgun into the Turk's mouth to get his point across. 

The taste wasn't the greatest, but holy shit, the idea was. Rude knew his erection is probably showing already but honestly, he didn't give a damn. He licked and bobbed his head as if he had been sucking somebody off, making a nice show of it. After all, he didn't want to disappoint the president. 

Rufus watched and let out a few shaky breaths. It was beautiful to watch, and the knowledge that he had the power to pull the trigger and splatter Rude's brain out made it even more arousing. He pushed forward, both with the shotgun and his body, changing his hold on the stock a bit. Adjusting his suddenly not that loose trousers, Rufus caressed the Turk's face. "So hot," he said, as a compliment and encouragement in the same time. 

Rude moaned, shamelessly and swept his tongue along the long barrel, dark pink flesh contrasting nicely with it. He didn't stop until he reached Rufus' hand and the Soleil licked at the pale finger on the trigger, like a good dog.

Rufus gasped at the small contact. "Wait," he said and moved the gun out of the way of his erection and Rude's mouth, as his free hand pulled the bald head closer to his crotch. "Continue." The shotgun wasn't forgotten but Rufus changed his hold on it. He didn't want to accidentally shoot off his Turk's dick as he pushed the wet barrels against Rude's thighs. "Get the clothes out of the way."

Rude's long, thick fingers quickly undid the fastenings on Rufus' white trousers and the president's eager member soon stood exposed to the air. The Turk first caressed it, then leaned closer and wetted the skin with a few long, forceful licks. Rude liked to give a head and Rufus had a cute dick, too. Of course, the Soleil refrained to mention this bit to him. Better to be safe than sorry.

Rufus bit into his lips and grabbed at the Turk's shoulder to steady himself. "Yours, too," he said, or more likely grunted it out as he nudged the Turk's crotch with the shotgun. 

Rude obeyed gladly, unzipping his pants with one hand, freeing his member from its prison. Wrapping his fingers around it, he tugged a bit, grunting deeply. His tongue and lips started to massage the president's manhood, sometimes with just a hint of teeth and his hand matched the rhythm. Darn, it felt good. 

Rufus' fingers dug into the Turk's shoulder, and he thrust forward into that inviting, wet, hot, and talented mouth. He was panting, and there were a few wanton groans as well, as the pleasure spiraled down on his spine and into his balls, ready to burst out. 

The pace quickened. Rude assumed Rufus won't really help him out once he’s finished so the Turk allowed himself the luxury of taking care of his own need. He finally took Rufus into his mouth and began to suck, holding the shaft with one hand. 

Rufus moaned and his fingers tightened their hold. A few moments later he let go of his self-control, shooting his semen into Rude's mouth with a few deep thrusts. There were stars before his eyes and the loud drumming of blood in his ears as he bit off his cry and just moaned from the pleasure. Finished, he slumped a bit forward, his hand holding his body while his knees shook under him. 

The president's seed in his mouth was warm and not too bad, and after all, it was a privilege to please him. After a few hard tugs, Rude came as well with a loud grunt. Trying to support Rufus with his clean hand, the bald Turk glanced up, to see the blond youth’s expression. 

Rufus opened his eyes and smiled softly at the Turk, when he managed to catch the other man's brown eyes. He lowered the shotgun, letting it slide to the floor then touched Rude's chin and face with his hand. "Thanks," he voiced his thoughts after some time, when his legs supported him. 

"Any time, sir," Rude nodded with a slight smile. "It was a pleasure to help." He fished out a tissue from his pocket and cleaned his hand. "Anything else, sir?"

Rufus shook his head and straightened to tuck himself away. He reached for the shotgun and put it at the desk, careful to aim it at the wall. Then, with a bit of amusement in his blue eyes, he asked, "Do you still prefer the fists for the guns?" 

"In most situations, sir," Rude grinned. "But there are exceptions."

Rufus smirked back then stretched a bit. "You may go, Rude."

"Tomorrow at eleven-hundred, at Tseng's office, sir." The Soleil bowed and left.

Rufus' expression didn't change as he sat back into his armchair. There was still work to do but the President's mood was lighter and every time he glanced at the shotgun, he could feel the slow smirk creep into his face.

 

~end~


End file.
